


time between the sun and moon

by mousie (lein)



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lein/pseuds/mousie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion slides out of his desk chair, grabs a book and curls up in the corner of his bed. For the third time this week, he loses himself in favour of something happier. He falls asleep, pressed against the wall, book loose in his hand, and dreams of electric grey eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time between the sun and moon

It’s been four years, six months, thirty-one days and precisely twelve hours since Nezumi left, not that Shion’s been keeping track at all (and even if he was, he would have no idea how many minutes it’s been; they all blurred together the first few days, he was an honest wreck).

Between helping his mother at the bakery, working with the committee, and losing himself in literature on every hour he can, he honestly has no time to think, everything’s an action and Shion likes it that way. But even that isn’t enough to stop the fleeting thoughts his mind makes towards the raven-haired male who left so long ago.

Shion finds himself staring at the window over his desk more often than not and it would slightly perturb him, but he got used to it two years ago (that along with the fact that he can’t sleep through the night without the breeze pouring over the open sill).

Karan pulls him out on Sunday mornings when there’s no meetings to be had and the paperwork is something Shion can afford to wait until later to finish. They go wherever, the park in the ruins of the old Correctional Facility, the new Library in the middle of town and sometimes just to visit Renka and her children. They stay out until the sun sets and Karan can sense the boy’s restlessness.

Sunday nights, Shion reads with the window haphazardly throw open and perched carefully in the corner of his bed. Monday’s, more often than not, come unexpectedly. He carefully slides a bookmark into whatever book he accidentally fell asleep on and sets it aside with a sick feeling in his stomach.

He spends the rest of the day curled up into himself (and unfortunately, he thinks, this has turned into a routine), Tsukiyo pressed against his side. Karan slides up with small bites of food, a glass of water, here and there.  He pulls the weight of the paperback ( _The Iliad,_ this time around) into his hands come evening and it’s a comfort.

He remembers to put it aside before settling down, mentally ticking off another day since _he_ left and that fact weighs harshly on his psyche.

Shion falls asleep cold and lonely; he dreams of nothing in particular.

 

* * *

 

 

Nezumi counts the time gone with seasons.

It takes him six to find a small, out of sight, bookstore. It’s worn with age and smells like home and Nezumi uses the last of the money he scrounged up in the last town he moved through to buy four new books. They’re packed away delicately in the bag he bought three seasons back (the one he had originally took with him suffered a falling out, quite literally. It was a piece of shit anyways).

Nezumi spends the night in a forest clearing by a small pond. The falling leaves swirl around him; he can hear the trees sing. The hair he hasn’t cut since he left sits heavy against the crook of his elbows and he feels strangely alive.

He falls asleep curled into tree roots and dreams of deep purple lakes, bright white snow and the smell of home rooted in his very being.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been four years, eleven months, twenty-seven days and precisely three minutes since Nezumi left and Shion’s starting to admit that he might have been keeping track of how long it’s been.

He still refuses to let his mother buy him any shelves even though the piles of books reach to his kneecaps. Shion has barely any foot space; he doesn’t mind, he resigned himself to the fact that he probably wouldn’t ever see his floor again three months ago and besides, Tsukiyo seems to love his new playground.

He’s spent a good portion of the last twelve hours trying to do paperwork and failing quite miserably (but it’s okay because this stuff is due next week, is what he tells himself). Shion slides out of his desk chair, grabs a book and curls up in the corner of his bed.

For the third time this week, he loses himself in favour of something happier.

He falls asleep, pressed against the wall, book loose in his hand, and dreams of electric grey eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

Nineteen seasons pass before Nezumi wanders into familiar territory. It’s late but the city’s thrumming with attention and the streets are alight with a soft glow. He can’t believe how much it’s changed in nearly five years; the once cold utopia is now warm, comforting and alive.

A small smile finds his face.

His hair slides softly behind him, nearly at his knees; he can’t bring himself to cut it (not until he’s home, not until he decides what’s next) but, despite that, he’s made sure he kept it nice and neat.

The second floor window is open, as expected, when he finds his way back to Karan’s bakery and judging by the light at this time of night, he thinks Shion’s probably awake.

Instead, he finds the boy sitting on the edge of his bed, slumped into the wall with a novel limply held in his left hand. It speaks volumes over how the snow-crowned boy has coped with his absence and somehow, the sight of it makes him smile.

Nezumi takes care in padding around the piles and piles of books lining the floor to slide the paperback out of Shion’s hand, bookmark it and place it on the desk. He clicks the light off next and, after a fleeting thought, slides the window shut; he feels strangely content.

Nezumi falls asleep curled on the opposite edge of the bed and hopes that Shion recognizes him in the morning.


End file.
